Shadowheart
by Ellesemera
Summary: It should not have happened. He has hurt me, made me bleed, carved his name in blood on my innocent heart and left me to perish. "I cannot leave my wife for you, mudblood," he said quietly, almost tenderly, and pushed me against the stained glass window. I stared at him. I could do nothing. His words were final. A sore, bleeding knot twisted in my heart.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

I lie face down, my eyes unblinking and numb.

The war drums are quieter now.

They are scouring the ground for survivors. I can hear loud noises, a few shouts and low groans.

I can see figures in the shadows. I am keeping very quiet, so quiet that I can hear the earth moan under their atrocities.

Their black cloaks swirl around their feet and the silverine masks beckon death.

_Have we lost?_

"That way is clear, Nott!" a man far to my right calls out. I hold my breath, _hoping_ against _hope_ that they did not see the twitching of my fingers.

I hope that they overlook my body.

I have _some_ life left in me.

But I am tired.

My throat is parched and I cannot fight anymore…

At a distance, I see a man bend over and kick a fallen warrior.

_They do not honour the dead. _

Loud, eerie laughter rings through the deathly night.

"Is everything in order?" an authoritative voice calls out to the small group of Death Eaters. They fall silent as soon as they hear him.

I remember that voice.

I _know_ that voice.

"It will not take more than a few minutes, sir," a sycophantic voice laced with tones of sugar answers him.

I am losing my vision.

The green trees look like demons in the starlight.

"Hurry up, then. You're walking on _thin ice_ here, Mulciber. One more mistake and you will _rue_ the day you were born," the man snarls. I can see his shadowy figure bend over an unfortunate corpse. He drags the sharp end of his cane against its skin and kicks to confirm that the body before him harbours no life.

I watch silently.

My mind is too tired to be afraid.

_Have we lost the fight? _

The resonating sound of running footsteps is driving me mad. But I cannot move. My flesh is bound by a curse and my tongue clamped to the ceiling of my mouth.

"_Lucius_! _Lucius_! The Dark Lord…" That is all I hear before the newcomer lowers his voice. I catch sight of silvery blonde hair being blown across his face. His face is rigidly set, his body taut. After a long while, he nods and straightens. The messenger leaves quickly.

I watch as he turns a few bodies over with the pointed tip of his shoe. My breath is stuck in my throat.

He is too close.

My fingers twitch once more and I manage to curl them around a small pendant in my palm.

The soft thud of his menacing boots moves closer with every passing second.

_I need to make this right… So many, so many have perished…_

Any moment, he is going to turn my frozen body over and it will roll across the grass.

He will know then.

"Come here, Lucius! I've got an itsy-bitsy survivor, he's a wee one but I think we'd all like some _fun_!"

Bellatrix's voice is shrill and loud.

Lucius Malfoy stops midway across the forest clearing and I breathe a sigh of relief in my head.

_I need to survive this_.

"Run along, _Bellatrix_. I have no reason to cater to your whims anymore," he growls at her petulant gesture. His next kick to the nearby dead person is vicious.

"Why, lost your appetite for enjoying _screams_?" she skips alongside him as he bends over to check something. "Or did you think you could go back to your _precious_ Narcissa so soon after abandoning me?"

She cackles madly, with the same touch of nefarious insanity that I have seen in her time and again.

They are too close to me.

I cannot close my eyes or look away.

They are going to see that I am alive.

I watch as he stiffens and turns to face his companion. "Lower your voice," he hisses to her.

There is warning in his tone.

And _contempt_.

I almost _shudder_.

I cannot see his face with clarity, much of it is hidden by the night. Bellatrix, however, is not cowed down by his apparent disgust of her.

She snatches the ends of his robes and twitters in an infantile voice, "But _why_, Lucius? Why keep _her_ now that we have _won_ the war? It is plain for everyone to see that you _want_ me… We look so good when we _fuck_, we could be great together, she is an _appendage_ that would tie you down… to this. _To domesticity_."

She licks her lips. I can see her demented face in the moonlight.

_How the pure flame must shudder to touch her demonic skin!_

_She is a hateful creature. _

Lucius Malfoy does not answer her. My fingers tremble as I hold the locket in my palm.

_Please, do not let them see me…_

He is too close, _so close_ that I can see the perfect seams of his robes as they snap about his feet. His heavy boots are gnarled into spikes at front and back.

"_Lucius?"_ Bellatrix tries to catch his hand once more but he is too quick for her. With one fluid movement, he reaches for her throat and drags her towards himself.

He is _choking_ her.

His own sister-in-law.

"_Shut up_ and _follow_ your orders, _Bella_."

With that, he pushes her away. A long trail of blood runs down her neck but she is apparently unmindful of the same.

She touches where it hurts and licks the blood.

She _fucking_ _licks_ her tongue at him as she massages her neck. "Oh, Lucius, if only I _could_… Tut, tut, but we do have all the time in the world now that…" She waves her arms around wildly, gesturing to the sea of death that rages before them.

_We are all dead, aren't we?_

"I'll wait for you back at the inn," she mentions jovially and takes off in another direction.

My attention is brought back to my present condition. His boots are so _fucking close_ to where I lie, motionless, pretending to be one of the dead.

I could reach out and grab him, make him trip headlong into dust. It would be so easy...

But that would draw attention to me.

Not to mention that I have lost my wand.

I cannot fight yet.

I hold my breath in my emaciated lungs as I watch him crush a man's wrist under his boots. The loud crunch of snapping bones is so real, so grotesque and inhuman…

He has reached me.

My heart is thumping loudly, painfully in my chest and I'm praying that he would look away and leave. I am afraid of the piling dread in my chest as he moves closer. I am motionless, staring headlong into a few sharp blades of grass that surround my ugly face.

A brief pause ensues as he watches. I think he is going to leave.

I _hope_ that he will leave.

_But no. _

I bite back a whimper as his foot kicks me in the ribs and I am turned over. I have concealed my voice behind a huge slab of silence but my eyes can see. I try my best to not let him see that there is still some life left in me, that I am trying to stay still and escape these fields of death.

But somewhere within me, I know that we've lost.

And they're scouring the fields.

For us.

Murderers.

All of them.

_Including me._

I see his eyes stare at my arm. Gods, the curse keeps me immobile but I can _think_. I can move my fingers.

_I'm going to survive this, I don't know how but I will not die. _

Not like _this_.

His face _twists_ into a sneer of disgust and I see recognition flash in his eyes.

He _knows_.

He _recognises_ me.

His face is made of shorn ice and I see a muscle twitch in his jaw.

_I'm going to survive this. _

I cannot close my eyes.

I have to watch helplessly as he brings down his boot to crush my neck…

_I'm going to survive this_.

Stiff leather is stifling the supply of air to my lungs, the sharp edge coiling around my neck and puncturing my trachea as I fight to keep consciousness.

I _cannot_ close my eyes.

I _cannot_ breathe.

The smell of blood laced to leather is constricting my thoughts, I cannot die here, not like this, not at the hands of a coward like him…

The pain runs tingling sensations of stupor through my nerves and my fingers jerk involuntarily.

I hope he hasn't seen me. I hope that he knows not.

_I need to survive this. _

His pale face looming over my broken form will _not_ be the last image in my mind before I die.

_Not like this. _

_Not here._

_Not now._

My fingers twitch involuntarily, the dip in my palm grows warmer and I can feel my head growing heavier. I need to survive this though I know not how.

I need to…

The world blackens to another shade of evil and I hear loud screams in my head before they die away completely. The wind rushes through my nostrils for one last second before I catch sight of his enraged face and I pass out.

_Or is it panic that I see? _

I need to survive this.

I don't know how.

* * *

My head is buzzing with the hum of a thousand bees pecking at human flesh_. Oh Gods, what the hell is wrong with the sky?_

_Has it turned green?_

No.

No.

It is the trees.

And light.

_Light?_

I jerk awake, snapped into awareness by the stinging sensations trailing along my arm. My eyes are blinded by the intense light that sweeps across my eyeballs, scorching my cornea.

_Where am I?_

It looks like a forest.

It _is_ a forest.

But the sky… is strange. The clouds are like holes in the sky.

_Is it my mind playing tricks on me?_

Perhaps.

But I can _tell_ that this is no part of earth.

There are trees all around, dense and mirthless, standing grimly on all sides, silent as death…

_Death?_

I jolt into an upright position but curse my thoughtlessness inwardly as pain registers itself in my lower abdomen and my chest. My head is spinning, flaming, burning, _incinerating_ my insides…

The mud here is black. It's so _raw_. My fingers…

I look around, trying to make sense…

A shock of pale, no _blonde_, silver hair catches my eye and I stifle a gasp.

_Fuck_!

_Where the fuck am I?_

That's _him_.

Lucius Malfoy.

I _need_ to get out of here. Not out, _away_ from here. Before he wakes. He's lying on his face and I can only guess that he's unconscious.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

There's no curse on me, I can feel my flesh and bones again and I can move…

But I do not know where I am.

_I need to survive this. _

I push my palms, my bruised palms against the harsh ground and lift myself for a few seconds before I collapse again. I think I have a ruptured knee. My chest hurts. I breathe.

I breathe.

And pull myself up once more.

I can stand.

I have never known what joy could reside in accomplishing simple tasks of survival.

I am not strong enough to run but I can, perhaps, _limp_ away and put as much distance between me and him.

I take a few steps and wobble on my feet but do not lose balance. It encourages me to continue.

A few steps more…

Another step…

I need to do this. I need to survive.

I have no wand but I will find a way.

Suddenly, a strong tug of flesh rips at my ankle and I stumble into the hard ground.

_No! Not now!_

_Not when I am so close!_

I tried to crawl away but a foot clamps down on my back. I must have a few broken ribs for the pain that shoots through my back is tearing me into two parts. My head hurts from the fall.

He hooks his arm under my shoulders and I am lifted off the ground, as if I am weightless, as if nothing but air engulfs me. The earth returns, my eyes roll into my head as he slams me against the ragged bark of the nearest tree and holds me suspended mid-air by the throat.

My feet dangle in nothingness…

"_Where are we?"_ he growls in a low voice and I shiver. Cold vision returns to my eyes and I can see his face twisted in disgust as he poses his question. "Answer me, _Mudblood_, or I will make you _regret_ it."

_He doesn't know?_

Surely…

But these woods are unfamiliar.

These paths…

I _glance_ into his fathomless eyes and somehow, I _know_.

He is afraid.

He is _panicking_.

The spineless bastard.

Perhaps, I can still escape…

I need to do this carefully.

I will take shot in the dark…

"How _will_ you make me … regret it, Mr Malfoy? By easing the life out of me? But who will give you the answers, who will tell you… what you don't know…" I spit in his face. His silver eyes harden simultaneously and I can feel my windpipe close under the pressure of his fingers. I am choking.

_I will not die like this…_

He lets go of me.

I slide down the rough support at my back and collapse at his feet.

He grabs my hair and drags me up again, I can feel the scalp stretch, twist into knots of agony as he slams my face against the bark.

That _hurt_.

That hurt badly.

He puts a knee in my back and I howl in pain as he yanks my head backwards once more.

"Regardless of what you say, I shall take the greatest pleasure in disposing of you… Answer me, and I shall make your passing… less _painful_," he whispers slowly, tenderly even, and there is nothing I can do to stop the burning in my eyes. It hurts.

I am not strong enough to fight him.

I am broken and fractured in many places while he is in perfect health, perfect shape…

I need to survive this.

_But why is he touching me?_

_Why not use a wand to torture?_

_And why…?_

I do not have my wand.

Blindly, I take a shot in the dark once more…

"Without a _wand_, Mr Malfoy?" I cough out. "You're as helpless as I am and yes, if you kill me, you will never get out of here yourself."

_Where is here, I wonder?_

I don't know.

"I know ways, _Mudblood_, of loosening tongues that are too _reluctant_…"

His tone chills my flagellated bones.

But he has no wand, of that I am sure. Besides, he thinks that I know where we are. It will not do to dispel the notion in his head.

"If you kill me, you'll be stuck here." I let out short gasps of breath as his hold on my hair loosens. I need to get away and I need to stay alive.

And right now, deception is the only way I know.

We are somewhere else.

And he is afraid.

I cry out in pain as he kicks my head. It is wrenched away from his grasp at the impact and I fall into the black mud with a loud thump.

The distinct crunch of snapping human bones is that of my wrist…

I will _kill_ him for this.

He presses the pointed edge of his boot against my cheek as I try to crawl away.

_I will escape and kill him for this. _

"You bitch!" he roars as I yank his foot in the last attempt to flee. It takes all my strength but satisfaction… yes, _satisfaction_ runs across my heart as I hear a thud.

He has fallen.

Now is my chance.

But I have no strength.

I crawl.

He grabs my waist and pulls me to my feet, my swaying body leaning dangerously against his iron hold.

_I will claw at his face, I will rip apart the flesh and blood he holds so dear…_

_Give me one chance and I will make this happen…_

"You _dare_…" he murmurs dangerously, his voice no more than a soft caress to my tormented ears and I suck in my breath, waiting for another blow to fall across my face.

It doesn't come.

A sudden whoosh of something flies past me and he lets go. I topple over the roots erupting from this ashen earth and groan as I fall headway into nearby bushes.

_Hooves._

_Beating fast and furious on the ground. _

Hundreds of hooves beating against earth can be heard all around. I whip my head and my eyes land land on him.

He is pinned to the same tree by a fork like weapon that keeps his neck fastened. On the other end of it stands a man with grim eyebrows, set jaw and an intense look in his eyes.

There is so much noise, my head hurts as I try to sit up and yet I cannot see.

I cannot see anything other than that man and Lucius Malfoy.

_Some sight. _

"We do not assault women, stranger…" he snarls at Malfoy who is trying to manoeuvre an escape. It does not look like he can escape.

His face is expressionless, unreadable, and I can see that he has lost any control he thought he had over the situation. From the way his eyes, his pools of silver disdain, hold the other man with contempt and arrogance, I can tell that he's thinking.

_Thinking quickly_.

_Something_ I should be doing myself.

Despite the intense pain ripping my back and tearing my flesh into two, I get up, stumbling as I move away from the two men.

"Who are you?" I hear the cold drawl of Malfoy follow me. I limp slowly, away from them, away from the trees, the black earth…

"That is not my privilege to answer…"

I think I can get farther with a few more steps, so that I would be invisible to them…

But the noises around me are overwhelming, they won't stop, they are…

"_You cannot escape, little girl…"_

My heart stops.

The breath in my lungs is taken away as I see a woman, exceeding in all beauty and richness materialise before my sight out of nowhere. Her skin is _pale_, glistening in the strange light that emanates from the unknown skies above.

"Bring her over here, Eterna," the grim man shouts. "Girl or no, we must take her as prisoner along with this… man. Though I believe that our Chief would be more amenable to pitying her…" He kicks Malfoy in the stomach and slams his fist into his head.

He bleeds and coughs on the ground.

For some reason, I feel better.

_Can I run?_

_Escape?_

I look at the woman standing before me, she is tall and graceful, attired in a tunic of some sort… She has battle-gear latched to her back and the malicious glint of her long sword is only too visible.

"He is my enemy," I mumble, taking a step back from her. Her eyes trail each movement of mine but she does not stop me.

She knows I am hurt. I cannot go far.

"As long as you comply, there is nothing to fear from us…" She tilts her head in a commanding gesture. "Or _him_."

I swallow the rawness in my throat as I look at her, uncertain. She looks like she is made of frozen fire. But I can see something in her eyes.

She isn't lying to me.

My gaze flickers to Malfoy. He isn't fighting back. There is this cold, calculating look in his eyes and I know that he is thinking of ways to escape. He will bide his time until such moment when he can succeed.

Perhaps I should do the same.

I sense no hostility in her gestures towards me.

I nod to her slowly and step in the direction she motions towards.

I need to survive this. Malfoy's eyes meet mine and for a moment, I can see hatred, intense, burning and raw…

I hobble towards the woman and do not look in his direction. The cold touch of metal registers itself in my mind and as I look down, I can see the locket twined around my damaged fingers.

_The bastard_. He has broken them.

For a moment, all seems to stand still. As I look at her, clarity returns to my gaze. Her face becomes fuzzy then, like a picture out the realm of death, like an image disturbed in still water…

I blink.

My legs give way and I collapse, the world turns black again and I fall into that terrible whirlpool of darkness.

_I need to survive this…_

* * *

_I've been waiting to write a story centering around LM/HG. I will make it worthwhille but I do need you to tell me if you like the first chapter... _

_Do review.._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

To a mind as well organised as my own, this lack of sense is most unpleasant.

My sight is intact and yet, I cannot see the hordes of sub-human… _soldiers_, I presume, following behind us. The man to my right, a scrawny lad of twenty summers is a most displeasing sight. He licks his lips and rolls his tongue out of his mouth for everyone to see every few minutes. I daresay the strange woods which have taken me captive must find him an irksome sight.

I should call the abysmal being '_it'_.

The other man, the burly scum who had the audacity to ambush and take captive a Malfoy walks far ahead of us. My hands are tied behind my back, an uncomfortable position, one of submission and distortion… something I despise greatly.

When I do have the chance, I shall ascertain that not single one of these brutish creatures lives to see their off springs flourish.

For now, though, I wait.

I could certainly overpower this small, leprous dwarf that walks close to me, so close that his foul smell reaches my nostrils in abundant quantities. But the two creatures ahead of me, not to mention the overwhelming sounds of an entire troop marching, nay, galloping behind me stays my hand.

I am without arms. My wand… is not present on my person.

These woods reek of Dark Magic, something I can truly revel in, but they are far more sinister and malevolent than any I have encountered, including my Lord's.

The incessant hum and the tender pull of this darkness weighs down my mind and I can conceive of no familiar place that harbours such power.

It is the Mudblood's doing, of that I'm sure.

Her filthy blood has dried on my boots but it pains me that she lives. She… collapsed and was carried away by two men who materialised from thin air. That is how I have discerned the invisible nature of this contingent. A fine trick, I admit, to launch upon one's adversary without giving away one's physical indicators.

I wait.

The other offender, a lady of some beauty stops suddenly and sits on her haunches, glancing this way and that, like an irksome _primate_.

My chest is damaged to a certain degree. I need my wand.

But I must keep calm.

Panic and fear make for an amusing recipe to the grave.

When I find her in a position of disadvantage, the horrendous slime, that vermin who leeches on those of pure blood, I shall draw exquisite pleasure from the screams that would erupt from her burning lungs.

Bellatrix was right.

I do enjoy the suffering of others.

Especially when I am in pain.

But this is not how I imagined spending the first night of victory, bound and dragged by a bunch of sub-human scoundrels through devilish woods… into what fate, I know not.

They are no wizards, I am afraid. Though they wield magic of a sort, it is most certainly not theirs to make use of. I shall apprise my Lord of the same when I return and therein would lie my revenge.

At this moment, however, I am… their captive.

Only the deception of tongue could deliver me from this apparent danger that lurks around.

"Where are we going?" I ask the underdeveloped, roach-like creature who clings to my side. My velveteen robes have become smeared with dirt. The golden embroidery is smudged with filth.

The Mudblood shall not escape my clutches. She is the reason why I am in this condition presently. She… the filth!

I take a few breaths to compose myself. It would not do aggravate my mental state and lower my chances of survival in the face of this… Chief, whatever he is, that they are taking me to.

"Vala," the little slimeball spits on the ground. I feel up my thigh for the silver-encrusted dagger I carry with me. It is still there. They have not searched my person. "She is the Chief. She decides your fate, stranger. She decides."

As I have conceived, his expressions are scarce in coherent syllables and punctured by offensive grunts at the end of each phrase.

I feel the outrage of my noble ancestors burning in my mind, their indignation at the manner in which a Malfoy has been treated but I stifle them. I must remain sane in the midst of this.

Survival is the key to vengeance.

And for this, if my Lord hasn't already seen to it, I will slaughter the entire world of Mudbloods and Muggles.

I will strip them of their skin and dry it to be used as rugs for our fowl.

Not many of them remain alive, not after what I have witnessed in the killing fields of Romaia.

The surroundings are growing sparser in trees. The grounds appear barren. The hard ground is riddled with stones.

"Tell me about her. Your… Vala." My voice is soft, laden with the saccharine undertones that no one can refuse an answer to.

_It_ scratches _its_ nose and grunts.

I am afraid that my patience will give way.

"She's… the Chief. She's power. She's kind. You'll see."

That is an end to this conversation for I cannot bear any more of the drivel that this piece of filth spews at me.

"Up ahead!" a booming noise calls out from far ahead. A knot in my chest grows tight as I take in the sight. It is a large camp.

A battle camp.

There must be at least a thousand huts of canvas stretching out on all sides, hijacking the horizon.

I must survive this. If for nothing else, then to murder the Mudblood for dragging me into this.

The man at the head of this invisible convoy stops, looks back, glances in my direction and waves his fork-like staff. Javelin may have been a better name for it but at the same time, the manner in which he swishes the crude metal reminds me of intricate detail in the movement.

It has always been a particular romance of mine. I have thrived on weapons. I have caressed their sharp stings in the darkest corners of my life.

I can perceive his expertise in the fluid movements.

"This way," he grunts and nods at me. He is brutish, untamed and obscene and I would like nothing more than to wring his neck in my iron-fist and run the silver javelin through him.

The camp is teetering with more of his… _kind_.

It is infested with beings of such infernal character, lacking in poise and civil demeanour, fit only for slavery and no more.

"Get in," the smaller vermin to my right slaps my arm. Instinctively, I stiffen at being touched by a lowly being such as him.

He _dares_.

He will know, though, before much time has passed, what it means to breathe the same air as a Malfoy.

The burly man, stands near the flap of a massive tent and fingers his weapon.

He grins.

A muscle in my jaw twitches.

I must rein in my wrath at this despicable behaviour. I straighten my shoulders, tired as they are after being war-strung for three days, lift my chin up and set aside the veil that guards the interior.

Inside, there is only a lady.

A beautiful dame, I must admit, surpassing all contours and designations of charm that I have ever encountered. She is reclined on a settee.

She seems not of a Martial race.

But… what am I contemplating?

She is a human, at best, and demon at worst.

_Filth_.

She does not deserve admiration from a man of my stature.

I hear a loud cough behind me. The demon-woman's eyes flutter open.

They are grey.

"We caught this man," the voice speaks from behind me, "and a small girl on the outskirts."

She raises her hand in dismissal, noticing me for the first time, and crosses her fingers.

For some reason, I am filled with dread and despair.

_Is she a sorrow-nymph, the harbinger of pain and madness?_

For some reason, I am brimming with hatred for her.

"_Speak_."

I must be careful with my words.

I must survive this… ill-fortune.

"I am the heir of Malfoy clan, descendants of the Affuvian race of purebloods." I make a short bow, to her eyes it must seem deference but in my mind I know it to be mocking. "I am in a strange land, seemingly governed by your _highness_. I intend no harm to you or yours and thus, I cannot conceive the reason why I have been led like an animal to your abode."

She rises from her seat in a swift movement.

No, swiftness is the wrong word for her speed.

_Can she…?_

It is almost like a spell she moves, stepping not on the ground but air…

"_Do you not know where you are, Lucius…?"_

My knuckles tighten over my palm but I shall not give away any more signs of my surprise at her address.

"No. How is it that _you_ know of my given name?" I cannot keep the edge out of my tongue.

Her silver-encrusted hand touches my shoulder and I almost shudder. I must let no emotion show.

"_You are so very wise… so very learned, in the ways of the dark…_" She runs her pale fingers over my jaw. I refrain from staring at her. If it is seduction she wants, then she will be deeply disappointed.

Narcissa…

She must be waiting for be back at the Manor.

She would worry.

"_So you will not speak…"_ She laughs.

She withdraws from my side and spins on her feet, snapping her hand to the side and steps to the settee once more.

"Lucius… you have a funny way of going about the world, don't you? Surrendering your pride, your wealth and your family for a cause… Some would deem it brutal, others would call it worthy of Hero-worship, for how many of us take arms against what we believe is wrong and fight on…"

She stares.

She stares at my blank face with a deep, penetrating expression and for some reason, I feel stripped of all pretences.

_How does this… woman know of me?_

"But tell me," She taps her fingers against an ornamental vase, "does this bring you satisfaction? You have slaughtered hundreds of innocent lives in the name of… _blood_. I know you believe in the cause of your race with fervent dedication. Even now, to you, I must seem unworthy of standing in your presence, speaking to you in a position of command."

I cannot deny the truth in her words.

She is _filthy_, like those of her kin who surround me in these cramped spaces.

"I am afraid that my personal convictions are irrelevant here. You seem a powerful leader, my lady, and I assure you that I harbour no ill-feeling towards you. If you tell me where we are, if you release me from… this captivity, I will secure to you the good will of the Dark Lord…" I intone in syllables of perfect harmony.

She sighs and turns her back towards me.

In her walk, I can catch a glimpse of Narcissa.

I… she must be worrying about me.

"So you would. But what makes you believe that I am in need of his alliance. Or for that matter, if he even exists in my realm… Your Dark Lord is mere name… he has no substance, no power that may be called real… I am forced to wonder, at the naivety in your reasoning after all the command and strength you exude…"

I take a step back from the vixen like smile she has the nerve to fling at me.

_Another_ realm?

She thinks me foolish.

_The bitch_.

"Where are we, my lady?" Try hard as I might, I cannot keep the demanding tone from surfacing in my voice.

"Ah… We seem to be progressing, _Lucius_…" The corners of her lips turn inwards and I find it difficult to check my rage.

The foolish, insolent creature… If she knows all this about me, does she not realise how I could… rip out her throat.

How I could…

"You are clever, yes, but _foolish_." I clench my teeth in anger. "You have so much to learn…But never mind… I will offer you two choices here. My people are at war. If I grant you life, if I allow you to live, you shall aid my forces and fight for me. If you refuse, your demise shall be quick."

Preposterous.

She dares presume…

No.

I must keep calm.

The razor-sharp edge in her voice keeps me from flying off the handle.

"I have done you no harm."

I grit my teeth.

"No. But you must agree, that to allow you to roam freely about our lands, ample as they are, would be folly. _And I am Vala!_ I am anything but folly." She rises to her full height, staring into my eyes with the ferocity of a warrior. A halo of light surrounds her ethereal image and for a moment, I _am_ convinced. "Decide now. The choice is yours. Or shall I say the _illusion_ of choice is yours."

My eyes flicker to the flaps at the backside of this tent.

Her army is too big.

And I know not my position.

If I agree now, I will be able to betray her later… when she is at her weakest and cut her throat.

She knows.

She knows me.

She knows the danger in me.

She knows where my country lies.

She knows how I may escape here and leave.

But she will not tell me.

She is truly despicable, a creature of dirt that I shall not be content to leave alive.

No, she must and will surrender. The Dark Lord shall break her pride.

And I, the captain of his ship, shall take pleasure in her demise.

Very well then, Vala, you play with fire here.

"I will accept your terms, under duress, for you do not tell me where I am or how I may leave for my place. I must find it on my own. But I have conditions." I gaze at her indifferent eyes. She is so much like Narcissa. But not quite. No. " If and when I find my path back to my lands, I shall return and you shall not hold me here against my will. Do I have your word?"

She tilts her head in a mocking bow, returning to me what I had gestured to her, and claps her hands.

"Take him to Bentham," she commands a soldier who steps inside. "He has the instructions. So long then, _Lucius_, until your vision clears…"

* * *

I scrape the dirt off another pan, flinging it into the large, metal tub filled with water and wipe my nose.

It has been two days since I was brought here.

I have not been allowed to leave. I realise that I fainted in the midst of those strange woods. When consciousness came to me, I was surrounded by women of all kinds. They were tall and clad in tunics.

They were beautiful.

All of them.

The Chief, whom they refer to as Vala, did not grace me with her presence. I was allowed to live, yes, on the condition that I served in these barracks and camps for the time span of their war against the neighbouring nation.

_Who are these people, I wonder? _

So far, I have gathered nothing much from the scarce conversations around these camps. It is uncanny that they speak the same language as I do.

For some reason, I feel like I have stepped back in time.

It may be true.

I could escape, yes, and go in some direction to search for the survivors of the war I left behind.

But I need time to recuperate.

My wounds are healing, slowly but consistently, and not before then would I make efforts to escape.

"It's a long shift today, ain't it?"

The girl's name is Suraiyya. She is the one who first tended to my wounds and has regularly supplied me with ointments and the kind. They are primitive, yes, but effective.

"It is," I reply. "I think I shall rest for a while."

She grins at me in sympathy. She works in the kitchens as well.

"C'mon, let's go to some place quiet. It is too loud in here."

I follow her as we weave in and out through the innumerable makeshift canvas abodes. I wear a grey tunic that Suraiyya was kind enough to lend me. All around us, the cacophony of voices, the beating of war drums and the shrieking laughter of soldiers continue. We walk for five minutes before we reach the wooden bench. It is comparatively peaceful here.

"How's your chest?"

"It feels better. I'm still in some pain, though."

She drags her legs up to her chin and gazes moodily at a distance.

"You were in a terrible state when they first brought you here."

"I know."

The sky is lit with stars of a different kind. I cannot recognise the constellations from memory.

It is a strange world.

"Suri…"

"Hmm."

"Can you tell me where we are? I mean, I can see that it is a battle camp and they-your people are preparing for war… but these lands are utterly alien to me. I do not know which way my home lies."

_Home_?

Once.

Not anymore.

"It is the land of Vala, Hermione," she answers kindly. "Our villages and cities lie far to the south. What is your home called?"

My friends are dead.

_Or are they?_

"Britain," I answer automatically. "You must have heard of it."

She looks at me curiously.

"No. The Vala might know. She knows everything."

Vala.

I have heard the name said with lots of reverence and hope.

"Who is she?"

"Our leader. Our… destiny."

How strange.

"Can I speak to her?"

She shakes her head. "No. Not unless you're called or captured."

I furrow my brows.

"But I _was_ captured, wasn't I? I was found near your lands and I guess that's why they brought me here. Why hasn't she spoken to me yet?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Who knows. There was another man , another captive, who was brought with you… They took him to her immediately but you were too… battered to be spoken to. And now, I suppose you're considered one of us."

One of us?

What is _us_?

The man…

_Lucius Malfoy. _

I clench my fists in anger.

I guess Suri doesn't know that he is the one responsible for my present state.

His allies responsible for all my misfortunes.

"What happened to him? The man you spoke of… Did they kill him?"

It would be one weight off my chest if he were to end up dead.

"No. Vala gave him a choice. She always does. He was allowed to join us and aid us against the enemy."

_What!_

_What the bloody fuck!_

Malfoy…

Trust him to slither out of inconvenient situations like the dirty snake he is…

"Has she considered that he may betray her in the end… since his allegiance was bought with threats," I ask carefully.

Suri smiles quietly. "You don't know Vala as well as we do, Hermione. She knows everything. She will never make a mistake."

Blind faith.

They trust their leader blindly.

I don't think he would be able to do much damage, not without a wand… Not when he doesn't know the way back to his coward-hole but still… If he's around and free….

I must be wary.

"What if I want to go home, Suri? I… have no one here…"

My voice cracks towards the end.

I miss my friends.

I miss my parents.

But they're all dead.

The dead do not return.

"You have me," she winked. "And we will all leave for our homes once this war is over. We're all here for Vala. You will learn to love her in time."

I see.

"Why are you at war? Is there a particular reason or simply the expansionist policies of your leader…?"

Her eyes grew larger by two sizes at my words.

She looks at me like I have said something blasphemous.

"No!" she insisted. "The Vala would never attack someone unless there was a righteous reason. She is… kind. I-I don't know the reason, Hermione… But we trust her. She knows."

My suspicions are flaring.

What kind of a righteous leader would take Malfoy, a murderer who has countless atrocities to his name, and induct him in their army?

Is she… Could she be another… Voldemort?

In this part of the world?

Where are we?

Malfoy…

My head burst in pain.

"A-Are you alright, Hermione?"

I whimper when she touches me and nod my head.

"Yes."

"It doesn't look like you are. C'mon, I sure no one would mind if you retired early."

She supports me with an arm around my shoulders and leads me towards one of the smaller tents.

* * *

The mirror is small. The chamber pot reeks. I splash my face with cold water and look at the image. It is distorted.

I look ghastly.

A silver locket rests against my neck. It is cold to touch.

I remember holding on to it when I fainted.

The nurse, or whoever it was that healed me, must've tied it around my neck.

My mother always admired the slenderness of my neck, its soft grace radiating against my unruly hair.

The war drums.

The war drums…

It is early morning.

And yet, they are up.

Every one of them.

I tie the ragged tunic around my waist with a narrow sash and step out.

Suri is on duty today.

I need to find my way back. I shall see her.

_Vala_.

My wounds are still sore but I need to help my friends…

Home…

I step across the clearing, making my way through dizzying smoke that reaches heavenwards...

No one looks at me.

I know where she lives.

I need my wand.

Where am I?

"Up so early_, Miss Granger_?"

My head snaps to the side and I see… _him_.

I take a step back.

_Fuck_!

I have nothing to fight him with.

And he… looks as impeccable as ever.

It is criminal.

But he simply stands there, looking, no _staring_, at my face without concern.

His bearing is still haughty, fraught with centuries of arrogance that must run through his pure blood.

He sneers when I take another step sideways, keeping him within my arc of sight.

"Looking for… _weapons_?" He sidles close to me and grabs my arms, like a flash of lightening, and pushes me to the side. "Are you afraid of me, dearest Hermione…"

"Let me go, you scum," I bite out.

His apparently calm demeanour shifts, like a dark night disturbed by dusky sand storms, and I can see a flicker of hatred cross his aristocratic features. His lower lips curls in disdain and I know that he's going to hit me again, he's going to punch me in the face and my bruised body would no longer be able to take it.

I've bled too much already.

Before he can raise his hand though, I push him away. The jerk of his hand leaving my arm topples me and I land on the ground. My ribs ache…

He stands erect, with no sign of emotion or contemplation on his pale face, his hair whipped around his lower chin by the strong wind and I wonder…

"Malfoy!" someone calls out. For a moment, he is distracted. I take my chance and stand up, quickly, taking quick steps away from him. He makes a move towards my retreating form but is stopped midway by three men.

They surround him like locusts, shouting, raising voices…

I cannot hear what they say.

I duck behind a large tent and slump down the canvas.

I need to see her.

This… Vala.

This shadowy lady who refuses to see me.

If nothing else works, I need to find a way out of here.

As soon as I'm well enough to run.

But not before I kill him.

Malfoy.

For his deeds.

He deserves it.

The coward.

I need a way back.

I need to fight back.

Until my last breath.

* * *

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